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    20,000 Leagues Under The Sea
    20,000 Leagues Under The Sea
    20,000 Leagues Under The Sea
    Ebook550 pages10 hours

    20,000 Leagues Under The Sea

    By Victor Hugo

    3.5/5

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    HarperCollins is proud to present a range of best-loved, essential classics.

    'The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides.'

    Scientist Pierre Aronnax and his colleagues set out on an expedition to find a strange sea monster and are captured by the infamous and charismatic Captain Nemo and taken abroad the Nautilus submarine as his prisoners. As they travel the world's oceans, they become embroiled in adventures and events beyond their wildest dreams. Visionary in its outlook, Vern's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is a legendary science fiction masterpiece.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins UK
    Release dateJun 3, 2010
    ISBN9780007382699
    Author

    Victor Hugo

    Victor Marie Hugo (1802–1885) was a French poet, novelist, and dramatist of the Romantic movement and is considered one of the greatest French writers. Hugo’s best-known works are the novels Les Misérables, 1862, and The Hunchbak of Notre-Dame, 1831, both of which have had several adaptations for stage and screen.

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    Reviews for 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea

    3.5/5

    113 ratings86 reviews

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    • 4/5
      The narrator has a habit of listing by genus and phylum every single plant and animal he sees and every shipwreck that has occurred in each region he travels to, but I skimed those and the rest was pretty good. I enjoyed the odd combination of 19th-century-style entitlement with surprisingly modern-sounding environmentalism (that species has been nearly hunted to extinction and this may be the last of its kind...let's eat it! or praising nature for creating new coal deposits in the sargasso sea for humanity to use when the land-bound deposits run out, or berating the harpooner for wanting to kill a whale needlessly, then slaughtering a huge group of other whales that came to hunt the first group....) And of course, an ambiguous villain(?) is often enjoyable.
    • 3/5
      What do you get when you combine marine biology from the late 1800s and an action-adventure classic? 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne, of course!

      If you haven’t already read it or seen one of the many film adaptations, the novel follows Professor Arannox, an educated gentleman, and Conseil, his servant, on their search for knowledge within the ocean’s depths. Along the way, they encounter many wonders and meet the acquaintance of some intriguing characters, including the mysterious Captain Nemo.

      When the plot focuses on the conflicts our cast of characters face on their journey, the pages fly by. From kidnappings to shipwrecks, a lot happens in what could be considered a rather short novel. Unfortunately, where there’s adventure, there’s also quite a lot of seemingly unnecessary description. Much of the book focuses on various characters making observations about fish. Unless you’re a scientist with a keen interest in the biological classification of sea creatures, there’s not much that will intrigue you in those passages. The descriptions that did not bother me were those that detailed the intricacies of Captain Nemo’s vessel, the Nautilus. At the time the novel was published, submarines were still incredibly primitive, so it’s impressive that Verne was able to predict the future, in a manner of speaking.

      All of the main and supporting characters are fascinating, to say the least. Professor Aronnax values knowledge over freedom, Conseil takes great pride in his subservient position, Ned Land has a bloodlust for the hunt, and Captain Nemo, well, we don’t know much about him, do we? The level of secrecy he exudes kept me engaged until the bitter end. Verne has a subtle way with dialogue too. There were many moments, particularly in interactions between Ned and Conseil, which left me chuckling to myself.

      20,000 Leagues is a classic for a reason. As much as I disliked the long scientific passages, the novel certainly has its merits. If you’re bothered by the extensive marine life descriptions, I highly recommend skimming or skipping them completely if you’re concerned that they’re ruining your reading experience.
    • 4/5
      Not being familiar with the comparative criticism between Verne and Wells, can only offer that I while I enjoyed Nemo's narrative and the compelling saga presented, I felt it would've benefited from some of Wells' philosophy.
    • 4/5
      I loved all the descriptions of underwater life, and the different places the characters visit. I wanted to become a marine biologist after I finished reading!
    • 5/5
      Review #16 - Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne (1870)Captain Nemo and his Nautilus – a submarine so ahead of its time when you consider that this novel was written in 1870, is a story of such a grandeur, such wonder that the scientific progress and the explanations given by Prof. Aronnax, a naturalist and passenger on this journey seem so believable (and some quite accurate) that, in some moments you forget and believe that you are on the greatest voyage ever undertaken. Jules Verne was meticulous in his research and this is a marvellous adventure story. Alas I did not enjoy reading this on the Kindle for the illustrations alone and would recommend future readers to read this novel in a hardback that's profusely illustrated.Originally serialized from March 1869 through June 1870, the first edition was published by Pierre-Jules Hetzel in 1870 in French. English translation appeared in 1872. This edition by Penguin translated by David Coward.- IRONJAW’S BOOK REVIEW, Review #16. October 7, 2017
    • 3/5
      In 1866, a mysterious sea-creature has been plaguing the shipping lanes of the oceans. Several ships have sighted and even been sunk by a long, unknown and unnamed threat. Professor Pierre Aronnax, a marine biologist, theorizes that the creature in question is a narwal of gigantic proportions, come from the depths of the ocean herself. He is invited aboard the Abraham Lincoln as the ship embarks on a quest to seek and destroy the creature before it can do more harm. However, the professor, his assistant Consiel and a whaler named Ned Land are surprised to discover that, upon being thrown from the ship during a battle with the 'creature' to discover that it is, in fact, a magnificent submarine. They are taken aboard by the creator and leader of the vessel, the enigmatic Captain Nemo, and there kept prisoner. Aronnax finds himself enthralled beneath the waves on this aquatic adventure, but he must take into account the feelings of his companions as the months roll by. Jules Verne is not for everyone. He is, by no means, a difficult read, but he is a thick read. Many of his works are heavily laden by his vast amounts of knowledge and research, and 20,000 Leagues is certainly no exception. Throughout the journey, we are given glimpses through the professor's eyes of the myriads of creatures and plants that he sees all over the world and he tends, as the narrator, to go on about these things for some paragraphs. I decided, not far in, that teachers should use this book as they have used Billy Joel's song 'We didn't start the fire' or whatever it is called, for years--make a list of the places, peoples and creatures listed throughout this novel and give it to the students for picking paper topics. I have a feeling it could be quite successful. Anywho. I really did find this book an enjoyable read, despite the scientific lulls. The Professor's excitement in the element combined with his intrigue at the mysterious figure Nemo makes him an excellent narrator. In his professorial role, he is continually observing and questioning and learning, providing details for the reader to clearly picture and absorb the actions and settings. Nemo himself is an enigma to the narrator and possibly even more so to the reader, as it is an interpretation of a man instead of a description of a man from an omnipotent or unbiased narrator...of course, there are those who would say there is no such thing as an unbiased narrator, but we shall not get into that here. It is a lonely argument when one-sided, as it would be. Nature of a blog post and all that. I am sorry that this is such a pathetic review, but I'm still not entirely sure how I should be writing these silly things, not to mention if I should be. Oh well. Off to play Scrabble.
    • 3/5
      Good book !
    • 5/5
      I really enjoyed the descriptions
    • 3/5
      a good read
    • 5/5
      This book shows the true roots of science fiction. A story so fully of carefully researched facts about the various oceans of the world and the fish and plant life in them that you could almost believe that the nautilus and captain nemo did exist and the wonders they showed our narrator exsisted as well.
      Science fiction is about taking what we know and expanding it just that little bit more into the impossible. Or the one day maybe possible and then seeing what might happen.
      Quiet apart from that this is a story that brings home the massive change in attitude our society has had in regard to the environment and its study. Nemo himself is somewhat of a conservationist "this would be killing for the sake of killing" he tells Ned the harpooner. He kills willingly for food or in his search for revenge but will not be party to senseless destruction.
      We never learn what Nemo actually hopes to achieve or what happens to the nautilus in the end. In many ways I think this would have added to the believability of the story when it was first published.
    • 3/5
      A classic that I had always meant to read . . .The first thing I learned was that I had always been in error in my expectations from the title. I had thought that the ship had descended 20,000 leagues under the ocean, but, of course, the submarine had merely undertaken a journey of 20,000 league while submerged. As a result, the speculative science basis for the book was much better grounded, and Verne gets many things right - along with a series of clangers.I had recently read Edgar Allan Poe, and found many similarities in their approach to early science fiction (to creating the genre of science fiction, really). A good read.Read March 2017
    • 4/5
      This is the unabridged version. It was long — very long! But what language, what grace of phrase! And finally, what drama! I imagine the abridged version leave out the lengthy descriptions of the underwater animals and plants, but I think it was worth reading. I admit that part is tedious. Perhaps my 4 stars are too generous for all I have agonized over the ichthyology, but the ending is so dramatic, it probably skews my rating to more positive.ETA: I just downgraded my star rating for the reasons stated above.
    • 3/5
      If you are interested in the state of ichthyology in the 1860's this is the book of you. Every new area visited starts with an extensive list of the flora & fauna of the ocean and as far as I can tell is the most scientifically accurate part of the book, the rest sadly does not hold up as well. This mostly feels like a research project hung over a very loose plot. There is little story or plot and no character development to be found. The central mystery of the who and why of Nemo is only resolved in the most superficial manner. While it is somewhat interesting to see what was state of the art in the mid 19 century this is a story crying out for an abridged version.
    • 4/5
      I first read this book when I was eight. While my classmates were rushing against one another to bring home Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys, I was devouring our library's collection of Verne and Sherlock Holmes books. They were thick, with huge prints and illustrations - clearly intended for kids. One time, I took out a book in the morning, read it during breaktimes, then returned it in the afternoon of that same day before I went home.Of all the titles in that collection, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea ended up being my favorite. So, more than ten years later, when I saw it again in the bookstore, I knew I just had to relive the adventure again. It had been a light and fast read in that small, thick book from third grade, so I certainly didn't expect it to be long and, frankly speaking, quite dragging in its unabridged form. That said, it was still a better adventure than before. If Verne didn't expound too much on the sea creature naming, this book would've been paced faster, but less believable too since he wrote it in a professor's point of view.In all, I still loved it and I look forward to re-reading his two other books that I first read a decade ago: Around The World In 80 Days, and A Journey to the Center of the Earth.
    • 3/5
      In 1866 there are a number of sightings of an unexplained object in the ocean. Some of these objects are far apart and with no other explanation, it is thought that it might be a sea monster.An expedition is established with the U.S. Naval frigate Abraham Lincoln under command of Captain Farragut. They are determined to find this sea monster and deal with it.Professor Pierre Aronnax of the Museum of Paris had written articles about this phenomenon of a possible sea monsgter and he his asked to join the others, along with his man Conseil and Canadian harpooner, Ned Land.Once they are out to sea and have traveled far in search of this monster, something is sighted and a small boat is launched. Ned Land is ready with his harpoon and Pierre and Conseil are with him. Ned realizes that this object is not a monster as their boat is swamped and they are picked up by the submarine, the Nautilus under Captain Nemo.They are kept in gentle captivity as the Nautilus travels around the world with Captain Nemo commenting as they reach various places. Pierre also comments on some of the things they find, such as a sunken ship with treasure aboard.The style of writing is dry and without much emotional comment. The style was so different from today's writing that It was challenging to get involved with the story.Jules Verne had some excellent ideas such as the deep sea diving equipment but when the Nautilus is said to go 20,000 leagues under the sea, that is more than the circumference of the earth.It was interesting to see where writing has changed in the last one hundred years and the changes in science fiction writing.
    • 5/5
      I loved this story when I was a kid and my rating is based on those memories. I doubt I would rate it lower if I read it again.
    • 4/5
      A true classic. It did have sections where the scientific detail got a bit overwhelming, but they were easily skimmed and did serve to help with the characterization. For the most part, the narrative kept moving and the characters were fully developed. I was slightly disappointed in the ending. After all those adventures, I wanted the best adventure to be the grande finale, but the author employed the deus ex machina by having the narrator fall into a state of unconsciousness where he (and the reader) essentially missed the last adventure. Sad. But overall, a good read.
    • 3/5
      A good story, a little slow at times but it never stops moving entirely. It was interesting to see how people viewed our ecology in the past. I would reccomend reading it with a dictionary at hand as the main character is a zoologist and uses terms not familiar to the common man. All in all, I'm glad I read it.
    • 3/5
      I've long wanted to read the story of Captain Nemo and the undersea adventures of 20000 Leagues Under the Sea. I'm now glad to have read it and overall enjoyed the story. I can understand how this story had such a large impression on society in the late 1800s and early 1900s where life under the oceans was almost a complete mystery. I found the novel a bit dry and slow at parts but it was still a pleasure to read. For those looking to read a novel which had such huge impact on the development of science fiction one needs not look further than this.
    • 4/5
       There's some unknown sea monster and it's destroying ships by gouging giant punture marks in them. Surmise is that it is a giant narwhal type creature and so the US Navy sends a boat out to chase it down. They do indeed find the creature, but it's not flesh and blood, it's a giant electric submarine. In the chase, our narrator, the french professor of biology, his servant and the Canadian harpooner get swept off the small boat and land on the submarine, where they are taken in and treated as captives, at least initially.They meet the ships captain, the enigmatic Captain Nemo and so begins a circumnavigation of the globe by submarine. You could argue that the descriptions of the South Pole and the passage between the Red and Mediterranean seas are quite unrealistic - but this was 50 years before men went to the South pole, and so is nothing more than an amazing flight of fancy. The descriptions of the fish became slightly dull after a while, (seen one & you've seen them all) but the story rolls along. Who Nemo is and what drives him to escape under the sea remains a mystery to me. A good read, and shows a hugely inventive mind at work.
    • 4/5
      This has to be near the sourcewaters of speculative fiction. As I read this book, I felt like I could feel Verne's mind working: "If I could travel under the sea, what sorts of marvelous things would I find?" Early chapters function as a kind of check-list for these imagined wonders: enormous underwater volcanoes, Atlantis, giant squids, the South Pole. And the wonders discovered really are the stars of the adventure. The technology is imaginative and interesting, but only to a point. Captain Nemo is mysterious and conflicted, but served more for me as background noise all all the delicious "what if?"s.
    • 5/5
      Vernes undersea adventure is an amazing trip that I've taken many times. Although history has proven his vision to be incorrect on many occasions in this yarn, it is still a mesmerizing odyssey. One of my favorite books.
    • 4/5
      This book intrigued me more than I expect, given the profoundly boring first few pages. Once the narrator finally was aboard the Nautilus, Verne's ability as a science fiction adventure write bloomed. He described dazzling underwater worlds, strange men and animals, and mysteries of the depth with excellent prose. I can see why this is a classic science fiction novel. Recommend for the ocean lover and the nerd alike.
    • 4/5
      20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one of the most intriguing books I have ever read. Jules Verne predicts so many technologies that didn't exist in his time, but do exist today in some form. For example, in Verne's time there was no such thing as a deep sea submarine, but in this work of art, Verne depicts a submarine which is able to hold a crew under water for 48 hours, and it's impervious to the shells of the cannons of the 1800's. 20,000 Leagues has many surprising events in it. Humans are so oblivious to the hi-tech creation of one captain, Captain Nemo, that when the US Navy first see his submarine, they think it's a huge monster! Later on in the book, many mysteries are uncovered, such as the myth of Atlantis, Giant Squid, and many more.I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone who is looking for a book that is action-packed throughout the entire thing, but there is some action in it. If you're a reader who's looking for a book that makes you think about the mysteries around us, and has a few good action sequences, then definitely pick this book up.
    • 3/5
      Great book very long
    • 3/5
       An interesting enough story to some extent, and an example of early "hard" sci-fi full of ideas and imagination. There are interesting and adventurous events in there, the kind I enjoyed as a lad in things like the X Adventure series by Willard Price. On the other hand, it's a bit of a slog. There are many, many sections where the protagonist simply lists the names of species - rarely saying anything about them, and even more rarely anything interesting, but simply listing them as though that should be interesting in its own right. There are little lectures here and there too, largely dry and unable to rouse my enthusiasm, and I say that as a biologist. On the other hand, I'll admit it's impressive that in 1870 Verne was already railing against the thoughtless havoc wrought on the natural world - and depressing to see how little effect it's had. I really do think, though, that it would have benefited from a kindly editor's hand to cut away some of the word-crust, leaving an interesting and adventurous book behind. As it is, I'm afraid I can't really recommend this book as the adventure story it seems to want to be, but only as a historical artefact for people with an interest in the genre. There are other books now that touch on similar content, lighter on the eye and the hand, and for most people I think they'd be a better option.
    • 5/5
      This book is so close to my heart. It's the second time I've read this book, but it's as bold and beautiful, as memorable and deep as I felt it was the first time I read it. Nonetheless, I am filled with so many emotions right now upon completion of this book that I'm nearly at a loss for what to say. This story is one of adventure, indomitable and evoking so many sights of creation in your mind's fantasy! Your imagination is constantly at a whirl with this book! Half the time while reading it I wanted to be sitting near a computer to look up the fantastic and intricate names of the species of life found in this underwater world I've never before known possessed so many wonders! And the other half of the time, I chose not to because I was in awe, imagining the colors and designs of these wondrous creatures so very few of us ever think about, and could ever know. It is no fish tale, but a tale of wonder that makes any reader marvel, no matter how scientific it may seem. Though I did not myself understand many of the classifications and "fancy" names that were mentioned, it was all secondary to the amazing world that you were able to travel through for the first time on this journey beneath the oceans.

      Yet while the greatest part of this tale is adventure and exploration of a world unknown, the other half is represented by its few, but remarkable main characters. Professor Aronnax, Conseil, Ned Land... and Captain Nemo, of the Nautilus. These first three characters create what you can fast see is a harmony between themselves that keeps the book flowing. Whenever one part may begin to get trying or dull, another one of the three comes in and will change the pace of the book, keeping it going. And while for some the classification and description of myriads of fish and plants may grow tiring, the infinite variety and pictures in my mind of these creatures are what make up a rainbow of realism and delight me in the more action-oriented parts of the tale. It is kept moving swiftly, and yet tells so many parts of a long story, that you are able to experience truly an entirely full realm of thoughts in a book so short for the many wonders it has certainly left out. After reading this, one can never look at the ocean the same way again, nor at the simplest of things that inhabit it. It brings a magnificence of life to something so taken for granted today by most of us, and the steady majesty with which it's presented gives one the sense that they have learned more than they ever could have before, once they come to the end of this seemingly "endless" tale.

      For it does come to an end. And I assure those of you who may seem weary or tired by the informative and scientific aspect of the book that there is a... an ending like none you've ever seen. An ending with so many questions wrapped up in them, so much emotion... that your heart will be either pushed to the brink or torn and bursting with the violent, writhing feelings that come up in the last few chapters. It's as though every wonder, every beauty we saw was all just leading up to this ever growing mystery of who this captain is, of what submerged a man like Nemo under the waves and brought him to a point of no return like none other. There is deep meaning and feeling in him that lies so turbulent and inexpressible underneath the surface. He is more than just mystery: he is the jewel polished by every wave and crevasse, every turbulent instance, every wonder.... He is a conglomeration so complex and fascinating that I cannot imagine any heart could stand unmoved by him and his story. For every greatness in him there are an infinite number of threads that lead down to his core that remains so very faintly unveiled for us throughout the story. And I must say, it is for him and to learn more and more about him that I read the novel half the time. For without Nemo, without his hidden and yet tangible self right there before us, we would never have gone to the places we did, either physically through the imagination, or emotionally through his unfolding story. He is a driving force unlike any other captured in a single character. It is no lie that countless people have been urged on solely for a love and fascination of this man. It is he who makes our adventures so vivid, and worth more than what they seem.

      No one who reads to the end of this book will be disappointed, except by a will to know more. To follow Captain Nemo down once more to the depths. Not to leave him. Or will you be glad to? *Smiles* That is the question you will know the answer to once you have ventured deep under the lands we know, far closer to life and peace than you ever imagined, into a marvel unlike you've ever experienced, all tied back to a single man, and his extraordinary life; his extraordinary story.

      For those with a love of adventure, for those who seek mystery in places unsought-for, this tale will fill you with so many things that you will be left forever the wiser and more experienced by the journey you take. For it is not the end, but the journey with this man that makes this book magnificent. It only reflects what admiration and wonder I have for everything else about this book. It is so silly... and yet, I will forever sit here and think of him, one of these greatest characters of all time. I will count the years and know that I have no chance of meeting him. But oh... Nemo. My heart goes out to you, in love and devotion. Find peace, good sir. You are worth it.

      This is worth it.
    • 3/5
      This is the classic translation, which suffers from many shortcomings (hence the low rating). You MUST read Miller's translation (usually published in an annotated edition) to have a chance to appreciate Verne's works. The early English translations are slightly more than worthless; they make Verne look like a mediocre writer of juvenile adventure novels. Even with Miller's translation, however, you probably would have to enjoy and appreciate the technical aspects of his work as well to rate that edition (Miller's translation) as high as I have.
    • 2/5
      As often happens when I read a book that inspires countless movies, I found 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea much stranger than it’s legion of popular adaptations. Often cited as a pioneer of science fiction, it reads more like a brochure for underwater tourism. The book consists mainly of amazed sightseers following a rigorous underwater itinerary inside a steampunk submarine. I could sense Verne checking off his list as he devoted each chapter to a distinct marine trope: kelp forests, sunken ships, sunken cities, volcanoes, shark attacks, squid attacks, navel battles, deserted islands, swift currents, coral reefs, icebergs, whirlpools, and all the rest are represented. If I were considering an expensive vacation I would call Nautilus Adventures and book a seat. Yet this aquatic amusement ride makes frequent stops for doggedly educational lessons. The “halt and explain” technique appears endemic of marine fiction; Moby Dick uses it famously, but whereas Melville inserted discreet explanatory chapters in his own voice, Verne has his characters break into learned discourse right in the middle of the action. The effect is usually comic. The characters will plummet down a dark underwater chasm, stop, discuss at length how atmospheric pressure can be withstood by reinforced glass, then plummet down some more. It’s like the cartoons of my childhood, where the cat and mouse would, at the sound of a bell, immediately stop their violent antics, sit down to high tea and discuss the weather, then, when the bell rang again, immediately resume their war. If Verne intended to do this as an ironic distancing device then he would be a genius akin to Brecht, but such is not the case. He intended to show how the seemingly impossible is in fact plausible. A noble goal, but he did it very clumsily. In this maladroit oscillation between narrative and exposition, Verne is indeed a pioneer of science fiction, for it is common flaw of the genre. Verne had ideas galore, far, far more ideas than most mortals ever conceive, and he had a rich imagination that gave his ideas wonderful color, but like many an author of speculative fiction, he struggled to integrate his ideas smoothly into a story. His wooden characters do not help matters much: an officious professor, a deadpan manservant, a hothead whaler, and, most famously, the “enigmatic” Captain Nemo. The professor is mainly a vehicle for Verne’s lectures, the servant is a source of lame one-liners, the whaler is there solely to fight the sharks, and Captain Nemo behaves more or less like a brooding teenager throughout the story. These are not psychologically complex, well rounded characters. Nor are they, in the manner of Dickens, poignant caricatures. They are naught but empty narrative vehicles. A robot could have stood in for any of them, and perhaps should have done so, as it would have added yet another expository twist to the story.This novel is tremendously influential and choc-a-block with images and ideas, but all in all this is not a fantastic work unfairly obfuscated by subsequent cinematic adaptations. In fact, some of those movies may actually be better than the book.
    • 4/5
      Phew, this took me ages to read. I had to dip in and out over quite a long period of time. Not because it was bad, no, just because of the sheer amount of information and description in every paragraph. If anyone wants a natural history tour of the oceans this is it, and it is fascinating. I even went and looked up some of the creature described in here so I could better picture it . The adventure that comes along with the education is somewhat sidelined by the geographical and biological information but is in itself quite exciting.It is very poorly paragraphed, as I'm sure is the main complaint, but that just means it is not one of those books you can read over a couple of days, and why is that a bad thing? Savour the descriptive prose and imagine you are also captive with the insane genius of Captain Nemo.

    Book preview

    20,000 Leagues Under The Sea - Victor Hugo

    CHAPTER 1

    A Floating Reef

    In the year 1866 the whole maritime population of Europe and America was excited by a mysterious and inexplicable phenomenon. This excitement was not confined to merchants, sailors, sea-captains, shippers, and naval officers of all countries, but the governments of many states on the two continents were deeply interested.

    The excitement was caused by an enormous ‘something’ that ships were often meeting. It was a long, spindle-shaped, and sometimes phosphorescent object, much larger and more rapid than a whale.

    The different accounts that were written of this object in various log-books agreed generally as to its structure, wonderful speed, and the peculiar life with which it appeared endowed. If it was a cetacean it surpassed in bulk all those that had hitherto been classified; neither Cuvier, Lacepède, M. Dumeril, nor M. de Quatrefages would have admitted the existence of such a monster, unless he had seen it with his own scientific eyes.

    By taking the average of observations made at different times – rejecting the timid estimates that assigned to this object a length of 200 feet, as well as the exaggerated opinions which made it out to be a mile in width and three in length – we may fairly affirm that it surpassed all the dimensions allowed by the ichthyologists of the day, if it existed at all. It did exist, that was undeniable, and with that leaning towards the marvellous that characterises humanity, we cannot wonder at the excitement it produced in the entire world.

    On the 20th of July, 1866, the steamer Governor Higgenson, of the Calcutta and Burnach Steam Navigation Company, met this moving mass five miles off the east coast of Australia. Captain Baker thought at first that he was in presence of an unknown reef; he was preparing to take its exact position, when two columns of water, projected by the inexplicable object, went hissing up a hundred and fifty feet into the air. Unless there was an intermittent geyser on the reef, the Governor Higgenson had to do with some aquatic mammal, unknown till then, which threw out columns of water mixed with air and vapour from its blowholes.

    A similar occurrence happened on the 23rd of July in the same year to the Columbus, of the West India and Pacific Steam Navigation Company, in the Pacific Ocean. It was, therefore, evident that this extraordinary cetaceous creature could transport itself from one place to another with surprising velocity, seeing there was but an interval of three days between the two observations, separated by a distance of more than 700 nautical leagues.

    Fifteen days later, two thousand leagues from the last place it was seen at, the Helvetia, of the Compagnie Nationale, and the Shannon, of the Royal Mail Steamship Company, sailing to windward in that part of the Atlantic between the United States and Europe, each signalled the monster to the other in 42° 15’ N. lat. and 60° 35’ W. long. As the Shannon and the Helvetia were of smaller dimensions than the object, though they measured 300 feet over all, the minimum length of the mammal was estimated at more than 350 feet. Now the largest whales are never more than sixty yards long, if so long.

    These accounts arrived one after another; fresh observations made on board the transatlantic ship Le Pereire, the running foul of the monster by the Etna, of the Inman Line; a report drawn up by the officers of the French frigate La Normandie; a very grave statement made by the ship’s officers of the Commodore Fitz James on board the Lord Clyde, deeply stirred public opinion. In light-hearted countries jokes were made on the subject; but in grave and practical countries like England, America, and Germany, much attention was paid to it.

    In all the great centres the monster became the fashion; it was sung about in the cafés, scoffed at in the newspapers, and represented at all the theatres. It gave opportunity for hoaxes of every description. In all newspapers short of copy imaginary beings reappeared, from the white whale, the terrible ‘Moby Dick’ of the Northern regions, to the inordinate ‘kraken,’ whose tentacles could fold round a vessel of 500 tons burden and drag it down to the depths of the ocean. The accounts of ancient times were reproduced: the opinions of Aristotle and Pliny, who admitted the existence of these monsters, and the Norwegian tales about Bishop Pontoppidan, those of Paul Heggede, and lastly the report of Mr Harrington, whose good faith could not be put in question when he affirmed that, being on board the Castillian, in 1857, he saw this enormous serpent, which until then had only frequented the seas of the old Constitutionnel newspaper.

    Then broke out the interminable polemics of believers and disbelievers in learned societies and scientific journals. The ‘question of the monster’ inflamed all minds. The journalists who professed to be scientific, at strife with those who professed to be witty, poured out streams of ink during this memorable controversy; some even two or three drops of blood, for they wandered from the sea serpent to the most offensive personalities.

    During the first months of the year 1867 the question seemed to be buried out of sight and mind, when fresh facts brought it again before the public. It had then changed from a scientific problem to be solved to a real and serious danger to be avoided. The question took another phase. The monster again became an island or rock. On the 5th of March, 1867, the Moravian, of the Montreal Ocean Company, struck her starboard quarter on a rock which no chart gave in that point. She was then going at the rate of thirteen knots under the combined efforts of the wind and her 400 horse-power. Had it not been for the more than ordinary strength of the hull in the Moravian she would have been broken by the shock, and have gone down with 237 passengers.

    The accident happened about daybreak. The officers on watch hurried aft, and looked at the sea with the most scrupulous attention. They saw nothing except what looked like a strong eddy, three cables’ length off, as if the waves had been violently agitated. The bearings of the place were taken exactly, and the Moravian went on her way without apparent damage. Had she struck on a submarine rock or some enormous fragment of wreck? They could not find out, but during the examination made of the ship’s bottom when under repair, it was found that part of her keel was broken.

    This fact, extremely grave in itself, would perhaps have been forgotten, like so many others, if three weeks afterwards it had not happened again under identical circumstances, only, thanks to the nationality of the ship that was this time victim of the shock, and the reputation of the company to which the vessel belonged, the circumstance was immensely commented upon.

    On the 13th of April, 1867, with a smooth sea and favourable breeze, the Cunard steamer Scotia was going at the rate of thirteen knots an hour under the pressure of her 1000 horse-power.

    At 4.17 p.m., as the passengers were assembled at dinner in the great saloon, a slight shock was felt on the hull of the Scotia, on her quarter a little aft of the paddle.

    The Scotia had not struck anything, but had been struck by some sharp and penetrating rather than blunt surface. The shock was so slight that no one on board would have been uneasy at it had it not been for the carpenter’s watch, who rushed upon deck, calling out – ‘She is sinking! she is sinking!’

    Captain Anderson went down immediately into the hold and found that a leak had sprung in the fifth compartment, and the sea was rushing in rapidly. Happily there were no boilers in this compartment, or the fires would have been at once put out. Captain Anderson ordered the engines to be immediately stopped, and one of the sailors dived to ascertain the extent of the damage. Some minutes after it was ascertained that there was a large hole about two yards in diameter in the ship’s bottom. Such a leak could not be stopped, and the Scotia, with her paddles half submerged, was obliged to continue her voyage. She was then 300 miles from Cape Clear, and after three days’ delay, which caused great anxiety in Liverpool, she entered the company’s docks.

    The engineers then proceeded to examine her in the dry dock, where she had been placed. They could scarcely believe their eyes; at two yards and a half below water-mark was a regular rent in the shape of an isosceles triangle. The place where the piece had been taken out of the iron plates was so sharply defined that it could not have been done more neatly by a punch. The perforating instrument that had done the work was of no common stamp, for after having been driven with prodigious force, and piercing an iron plate one and three eighths of an inch thick, it had been withdrawn by some wonderful retrograde movement.

    Such was the last fact, and it again awakened public opinion on the subject. After that all maritime disasters not satisfactorily accounted for were put down to the account of the monster. All the responsibility of the numerous wrecks annually recorded at Lloyd’s was laid to the charge of this fantastic animal, and thanks to the ‘monster,’ communication between the two continents became more and more difficult; the public loudly demanding that the seas should be rid of the formidable cetacean at any price.

    CHAPTER 2

    For and Against

    At the period when these events were happening I was returning from a scientific expedition into the region of Nebraska. In my quality of Assistant Professor in the Paris Museum of Natural History, the French Government had attached me to that expedition. I arrived at New York, loaded with precious collections made during six months in Nebraska, at the end of March. My departure from France was fixed for the beginning of May. Whilst I waited and was occupying myself with classifying my mineralogical, botanical, and zoological riches, the incident happened to the Scotia.

    I was perfectly acquainted with the subject which was the question of the day, and it would have been strange had I not been. I had repeatedly read all the American and European papers without being any the wiser as to the cause. The mystery puzzled me, and I hesitated to form any conclusion.

    When I arrived at New York the subject was hot. The hypothesis of a floating island or reef, which was supported by incompetent opinion, was quite abandoned, for unless the shoal had a machine in its stomach, how could it change its position with such marvellous rapidity? For the same reason the idea of a floating hull or gigantic wreck was given up.

    There remained, therefore, two possible solutions of the enigma which created two distinct parties; one was that the object was a colossal monster, the other that it was a submarine vessel of enormous motive power. This last hypothesis, which, after all, was admissible, could not stand against inquiries made in the two hemispheres. It was hardly probable that a private individual should possess such a machine. Where and when had he caused it to be built, and how could he have kept its construction secret? Certainly a Government might possess such a destructive engine, and it was possible in these disastrous times, when the power of weapons of war has been multiplied, that, without the knowledge of others, a state might possess so formidable a weapon. After the chassepots came the torpedoes, and after the torpedoes the submarine rams, and after them – the reaction. At least, I hope so.

    But the hypothesis of a war machine fell before the declaration of different Governments, and as the public interest suffered from the difficulty of transatlantic communication, their veracity could not be doubted. Besides, secrecy would be even more difficult to a government than to a private individual. After inquiries made in England, France, Russia, Prussia, Spain, Italy, America, and even Turkey, the hypothesis of a submarine monitor was definitely rejected.

    On my arrival at New York, several persons did me the honour of consulting me about the phenomenon in question. The Honourable Pierre Aronnax, Professor in the Paris Museum, was asked by the New York Herald to give his opinion on the matter. I subjoin an extract from the article which I published on the 30th of April: –

    ‘After having examined the different hypothesis one by one, and all other suppositions being rejected, the existence of a marine animal of excessive strength must be admitted.

    ‘The greatest depths of the ocean are totally unknown to us. What happens there? What beings can live twelve or fifteen miles below the surface of the sea? We can scarcely conjecture what the organisation of these animals is. However, the solution of the problem submitted to me may affect the form of the dilemma, we either know all the varieties of beings that people our planet or we do not. If we do not know them all – if there are still secrets of ichthyology for us – nothing is more reasonable than to admit the existence of fishes or cetaceans of an organisation suitable to the strata inaccessible to soundings, which for some reason or other come up to the surface at intervals.

    ‘If, on the contrary, we do know all living species, we must, of course, look for the animal in question amongst the already classified marine animals, and in that case I should be disposed to admit the existence of a gigantic narwhal.

    ‘The common narwhal, or sea-unicorn, is often sixty feet long. This size increased five or tenfold, and a strength in proportion to its size being given to the cetacean, and its offensive arms being increased in the same proportion, you obtain the animal required. It will have the proportions given by the officers of the Shannon, the instrument that perforated the Scotia, and the strength necessary to pierce the hull of the steamer.

    ‘In fact, the narwhal is armed with a kind of ivory sword or halberd, as some naturalists call it. It is the principal tusk, and is as hard as steel. Some of these tusks have been found imbedded in the bodies of whales, which the narwhal always attacks with success. Others have been with difficulty taken out of ships’ bottoms, which they pierced through and through like a gimlet in a barrel. The Museum of the Paris Faculty of Medicine contains one of these weapons, two and a quarter yards in length and fifteen inches in diameter at the base.

    ‘Now, suppose this weapon to be ten times stronger, and its possessor ten times more powerful, hurl it at the rate of twenty miles an hour, and you obtain a shock that might produce the catastrophe required. Therefore, until I get fuller information, I shall suppose it to be a sea-unicorn of colossal dimensions, armed, not with a halberd, but with a spur like ironclads or battering rams, the massiveness and motive power of which it would possess at the same time. This inexplicable phenomenon may be thus explained, unless something exists over and above anything ever conjectured, seen, or experienced, which is just possible.’

    My article was well received, and provoked much discussion amongst the public. It rallied a certain number of partisans. The solution which it proposed left freedom to the imagination. The human mind likes these grand conceptions of supernatural beings. Now the sea is precisely their best instrument of transmission, the only medium in which these giants, by the side of which terrestrial animals, elephants, or rhinoceri, are but dwarfs, can breed and develop. The liquid masses transport the largest known species of mammalia, and they perhaps contain molluscs of enormous size, crustaceans frightful to contemplate, such as lobsters more than a hundred yards long, or crabs weighing two hundred tons. Why should it not be so? Formerly, terrestrial animals, contemporaries of the geological epochs, quadrupeds, quadrumans, reptiles, and birds, were constructed in gigantic moulds. The Creator had thrown them into a colossal mould which time has gradually lessened. Why should not the sea in its unknown depths have kept there vast specimens of the life of another age – the sea which never changes, whilst the earth changes incessantly? Why should it not hide in its bosom the last varieties of these titanic species, whose years are centuries, and whose centuries are millenniums?

    But I am letting myself be carried away by reveries which are no longer such to me. A truce to chimeras which time has changed for me into terrible realities. I repeat, opinion was then made up as to the nature of the phenomenon, and the public admitted without contestation the existence of the prodigious animal which had nothing in common with the fabulous sea serpents.

    But if some people saw in this nothing but a purely scientific problem to solve, others more positive, especially in America and England, were of opinion to purge the ocean of this formidable monster, in order to reassure transmarine communications.

    Public opinion having declared its verdict, the United States were first in the field, and preparations for an expedition to pursue the narwhal were at once begun in New York. A very fast frigate, the Abraham Lincoln, was put in commission, and the arsenals were opened to Captain Farragut, who actively hastened the arming of his frigate.

    But, as generally happens, from the moment it was decided to pursue the monster, the monster was not heard of for two months. It seemed as if this unicorn knew about the plots that were being weaved for it. It had been so much talked of, even through the Atlantic Cable! Would-be wits pretended that the cunning fellow had stopped some telegram in its passage, and was now using the knowledge for his own benefit.

    So when the frigate had been prepared for a long campaign, and furnished with formidable fishing apparatus, they did not know where to send her to. Impatience was increasing with the delay, when on July 2 it was reported that a steamer of the San Francisco Line, from California to Shanghai, had met with the animal three weeks before in the North Pacific Ocean.

    The emotion caused by the news was extreme, and twenty-four hours only were granted to Captain Farragut before he sailed. The ship was already victualled and well stocked with coal. The crew were there to a man, and there was nothing to do but to light the fires.

    Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left Brooklyn Pier I received the following letter: –

    ‘Sir, – If you would like to join the expedition of the Abraham Lincoln, the United States Government will have great pleasure in seeing France represented by you in the enterprise. Captain Farragut has a cabin at your disposition.

    ‘Faithfully yours,

    ‘J. B. Hobson, Secretary of Marine.’

    CHAPTER 3

    As Monsieur Pleases

    Three seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobson’s letter I had no more idea of pursuing the unicorn than of attempting the North-West Passage. Three seconds after having read the secretary’s letter I had made up my mind that ridding the world of this monster was my veritable vocation and the single aim of my life.

    But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, and was longing for rest in my own little place in the Jardin des Plantes amongst my dear and precious collections. But I forgot all fatigue, repose, and collections, and accepted without further reflection the offer of the American Government.

    ‘Besides,’ I said to myself, ‘all roads lead back to Europe, and the unicorn may be amiable enough to draw me towards the French coast. This worthy animal may allow itself to be caught in European seas for my especial benefit, and I will not take back less than half a yard of its halberd to the National History Museum.’

    But in the meantime the narwhal was taking me to the North Pacific Ocean, which was going to the antipodes on the road to France.

    ‘Conseil!’ I called in an impatient tone. ‘Conseil!’

    Conseil was my servant, a faithful fellow who accompanied me on all my journeys, a brave Dutchman I had great confidence in; he was phlegmatic by nature, regular from principle, zealous from habit, showing little astonishment at the varied surprises of life, very skilful with his hands, apt at any service, and, in spite of his name, never giving any counsel, even when asked for it.

    By dint of contact with the world of savants in our Jardin des Plantes, Conseil had succeeded in knowing something. He was a specialist, well up in the classification of Natural History, but his science stopped there. As far as practice was concerned, I do not think he could have distinguished a cachalot from a whale. And yet what a brave fellow he was!

    Conseil had followed me during the last ten years wherever science had directed my steps. He never complained of the length or fatigue of a journey, or of having to pack his trunk for any country, however remote, whether China or Congo. He went there or elsewhere without questioning the wherefore. His health defied all illness, and he had solid muscles, but no nerves – not the least appearance of nerves – of course, I mean in his mental faculties. He was thirty years old, and his age to that of his master was as fifteen is to twenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty?

    But Conseil had one fault. He was intensely formal, and would never speak to me except in the third person, which was sometimes irritating.

    ‘Conseil!’ I repeated, beginning my preparations for departure with a feverish hand.

    Certainly, I was certain of this faithful fellow. Usually I did not ask him if it was or was not convenient for him to accompany me on my travels; but this time an expedition was in question which might be a very long and hazardous one, in pursuit of an animal capable of sinking a frigate like a nutshell. There was matter for reflection, even to the most impassive man in the world. What would Conseil say?

    ‘Conseil!’ I called for the third time.

    Conseil appeared.

    ‘Did monsieur call me?’ said he on entering.

    ‘Yes, my boy. Get yourself and me ready to start in two hours.’

    ‘As it pleases monsieur,’ answered Conseil calmly.

    ‘There is not a minute to lose. Pack up all my travelling utensils, as many coats, shirts, and socks as you can get in. Make haste!’

    ‘And monsieur’s collections?’ asked Conseil.

    ‘We will see to them presently.’

    ‘What, the archiotherium, the hyracotherium, the oreodons, the cheropotamus, and monsieur’s other skins?’

    ‘They will stay at the hotel.’

    ‘And the live babiroussa of monsieur’s?’

    ‘They will feed it during our absence. Besides, I will give orders to have our menagerie forwarded to France.’

    ‘We are not going back to Paris, then?’ asked Conseil.

    ‘Yes – certainly we are,’ answered I evasively; ‘but by making a curve.’

    ‘The curve that monsieur pleases.’

    ‘Oh, it is not much; not so direct a route, that’s all. We are going in the Abraham Lincoln.’

    ‘As it may suit monsieur.’

    ‘You know about the monster, Conseil – the famous narwhal. We are going to rid the seas of it. A glorious mission, but – dangerous too. We don’t know where we are going to. Those animals may be very capricious! But we will go, whether or no! We have a captain who will keep his eyes open.’

    ‘As monsieur does, I will do,’ answered Conseil.

    ‘But think, for I will hide nothing from you. It is one of those voyages from which people do not always come back.’

    ‘As monsieur pleases.’

    A quarter of an hour afterwards our trunks were ready. Conseil had packed them by sleight of hand, and I was sure nothing would be missing, for the fellow classified shirts and clothes as well as he did birds or mammals.

    The hotel lift deposited us in the large vestibule of the first floor. I went down the few stairs that led to the ground floor. I paid my bill at the vast counter, always besieged by a considerable crowd. I gave the order to send my cases of stuffed animals and dried plants to Paris. I opened a sufficient credit for the babiroussa, and, Conseil following me, I sprang into a vehicle.

    Our luggage was at once sent on board, and we soon followed it. I asked for Captain Farragut. One of the sailors conducted me to the poop, where I found myself in the presence of a pleasant-looking officer, who held out his hand to me.

    ‘Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?’ he said.

    ‘Himself,’ replied I. ‘Do I see Captain Farragut?’

    ‘In person. You are welcome, professor. Your cabin is ready for you.’

    I bowed, and leaving the commander to his duties, went down to the cabin prepared for me.

    The Abraham Lincoln had been well chosen and equipped for her new destination. She was a frigate of great speed, furnished with overheating apparatus that allowed the tension of the steam to reach seven atmospheres. Under that pressure the Abraham Lincoln reached an average speed of eighteen miles and three-tenths an hour good speed, but not enough to wrestle with the gigantic cetacean.

    The interior arrangements of the frigate were in keeping with her nautical qualities. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was situated aft, and opened on the wardroom.

    ‘We shall be comfortable here,’ said I to Conseil.

    ‘Yes, as comfortable as a hermit crab in a crumpet-shell.’

    I left Conseil to stow our luggage away, and went up on deck in order to see the preparations for departure. Captain Farragut was just ordering the last moorings to be cast loose, so that had I been one quarter of an hour later the frigate would have started without me, and I should have missed this extraordinary, supernatural, and incredible expedition, the true account of which may well be received with some incredulity.

    But Commander Farragut did not wish to lose either a day or an hour before scouring the seas in which the animal had just been signalled. He sent for his engineer.

    ‘Is the steam full on?’ asked the captain.

    ‘Yes, captain,’ replied the engineer.

    ‘Go ahead, then,’ cried Farragut.

    The Abraham Lincoln was soon moving majestically amongst a hundred ferry-boats and tenders loaded with spectators, passed the Brooklyn quay, on which, as well as on all that part of New York bordering on the East River, crowds of spectators were assembled. Thousands of handkerchiefs were waved above the compact mass, and saluted the Abraham Lincoln until she reached the Hudson at the point of that elongated peninsula which forms the town of New York.

    Then the frigate followed the coast of New Jersey, along the right bank of the beautiful river covered with villas, and passed between the forts, which saluted her with their largest guns. The Abraham Lincoln acknowledged the salutation by hoisting the American colours three times, their thirty-nine stars shining resplendent from the mizen peak; then modifying her speed to take the narrow channel marked by buoys and formed by Sandy Hook Point, she coasted the long sandy shore, where several thousand spectators saluted her once more.

    Her escorts of boats and tenders followed her till she reached the light boat, the two lights of which mark the entrance to the New York Channel.

    Three o’clock was then striking. The pilot went down into his boat and rejoined the little schooner which was waiting under lee, the fires were made up, the screw beat the waves more rapidly, and the frigate coasted the low yellow shore of Long Island, and at 8 p.m., after having lost sight in the north-west of the lights on Fire Island, she ran at full steam on to the dark waters of the Atlantic.

    CHAPTER 4

    Ned Land

    Captain Farragut was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate he was commanding. His ship and he were one. He was the soul of it. No doubt arose in his mind on the question of the cetacean, and he did not allow the existence of the animal to be disputed on board. He believed in it like simple souls believe in the Leviathan – by faith, not by sight. The monster existed, and he had sworn to deliver the seas from it. Either Captain Farragut would kill the narwhal or the narwhal would kill Captain Farragut – there was no middle course.

    The officers on board shared the opinion of their chief. It was amusing to hear them talking, arguing, disputing, and calculating the different chances of meeting whilst they kept a sharp look-out over the vast extent of ocean. More than one took up his position on the crosstrees who would have cursed the duty as a nuisance at any other time. Whilst the sun described its diurnal circle the rigging was crowded with sailors who could not keep in place on deck. And nevertheless the Abraham Lincoln was not yet ploughing the suspected waters of the Pacific.

    As to the crew, all they wanted was to meet the unicorn, harpoon it, haul it on board, and cut it up. Captain Farragut had offered a reward of 2000 dollars to the first cabin-boy, sailor, or officer who should signal the animal. I have already said that Captain Farragut had carefully provided all the tackle necessary for taking the gigantic cetacean. A whaler would not have been better furnished. We had every known engine, from the hand harpoon to the barbed arrow of the blunderbuss and the explosive bullets of the deck-gun. On the forecastle lay a perfect breech-loader, very thick at the breech and narrow in the bore, the model of which had been in the Paris Exhibition of 1867. This precious weapon, of American make, could throw with ease a conical projectile, weighing nine pounds, to a mean distance of ten miles. Thus the Abraham Lincoln not only possessed every means of destruction, but, better still, she had on board Ned Land, the king of harpooners.

    Ned Land was a Canadian of uncommon skill, who had no equal in his perilous employment. He possessed ability, sang-froid, audacity, and subtleness to a remarkable degree, and it would have taken a sharp whale or a singularly wily cachalot to escape his harpoon. He was about forty years of age, tall (more than six feet high), strongly built, grave, and taciturn, sometimes violent, and very passionate when put out. His person, and especially the power of his glance, which gave a singular expression to his face, attracted attention.

    I believe that Captain Farragut had done wisely in engaging this man. He was worth all the rest of the ship’s company as far as his eye and arm went. I could not compare him to anything better than a powerful telescope which would be a cannon always ready to fire as well.

    I now depict this brave companion as I knew him afterwards, for we are old friends, united in that unchangeable friendship which is born and cemented in mutual danger. Ah, brave Ned, I only hope I may live a hundred years more to remember you longer.

    Now what was Ned Land’s opinion on the subject of this marine monster? I must acknowledge that he hardly believed in the narwhal, and that he was the only one on board who did not share the universal conviction.

    One evening, three weeks after our departure, the frigate was abreast of Cape Blanc, thirty miles to leeward of the Patagonian coast. Another week and the Abraham Lincoln would be ploughing the waters of the Pacific.

    Seated on the poop, Ned Land and I were talking on all sorts of subjects, looking at that mysterious sea whose greatest depths have remained till now inaccessible to the eye of man. I brought the conversation naturally to the subject of the giant unicorn, and discussed the different chances of success in our expedition. Then seeing that Ned Land let me go on talking without saying anything himself, I pressed him more closely.

    ‘Well, Ned,’ I said to him, ‘are you not yet convinced of the existence of the cetacean we are pursuing? Have you any particular reasons for being so incredulous?’

    The harpooner looked at me for some minutes before replying, struck his forehead with a gesture habitual to him, shut his eyes as if to collect himself, and said at last, –

    ‘Perhaps I have, M. Arronax.’

    ‘Yet you, Ned, are a whaler by profession. You are familiar with the great marine mammalia, and your imagination ought easily to accept the hypothesis of enormous cetaceans. You ought to be the last to doubt in such circumstances.’

    ‘That is what deceives you, sir,’ answered Ned. ‘It is not strange that common people should believe in extraordinary comets, or the existence of antediluvian monsters peopling the interior of the globe, but no astronomer or geologist would believe in such chimeras. The whaler is the same. I have pursued many cetaceans, harpooned a great number, and killed some few; but however powerful or well armed they were, neither their tails nor their defences could ever have made an incision in the iron plates of a steamer.’

    ‘Yet, Ned, it is said that ships have been bored through by the tusk of a narwhal.’

    ‘Wooden ships, perhaps,’ answered the Canadian, ‘though I have never seen it, and until I get proof to the contrary I deny that whales, cachalots, or sea-unicorns could produce such an effect.’

    ‘Listen to me, Ned.’

    ‘No, sir, no; anything you like but that – a gigantic poulp, perhaps?’

    ‘No, that can’t be. The poulp is only a mollusc; its flesh has no more consistency than its name indicates.’

    ‘Then you really do believe in this cetacean, sir?’ said Ned.

    ‘Yes, Ned. I repeat it with a conviction resting on the logic of facts. I believe in the existence of a mammal, powerfully organised, belonging to the branch of vertebrata, like whales, cachalots, and dolphins, and furnished with a horn tusk, of which the force of penetration is extreme.’

    ‘Hum!’ said the harpooner, shaking his head like a man who will not let himself be convinced.

    ‘Remark, my worthy Canadian,’ I continued, ‘if such an animal exists and inhabits the depths of the ocean, it necessarily possesses an organisation the strength of which would defy all comparison.’

    ‘Why must it have such an organisation?’ asked Ned.

    ‘Because it requires an incalculable strength to keep in such deep water and resist its pressure. Admitting that the pressure of the atmosphere is represented by that of a column of water thirty-two feet high. In reality the column of water would not be so high, as it is sea-water that is in question, and its density is greater than that of fresh water. When you dive, Ned, as many times thirty-two feet of water as there are above you, so many times does your body support a pressure equal to that of the atmosphere – that is to say, 15 lbs. for each square inch of its surface. It hence follows that at 320 feet this pressure equals that of 10 atmospheres; at 3200 feet, 100 atmospheres; and at 32,000 feet, 1000 atmospheres – that is, about six and a half miles, which is equivalent to saying that if you can reach this depth in the ocean, each square inch of the surface of your body would bear a pressure of 14,933 1/3 lbs. Do you know how many square inches you have on the surface of your body?’

    ‘I have no idea.’

    ‘About 6500; and as in reality the atmospheric pressure is about 15 lbs. to the square inch, your 6500 square inches support at this minute a pressure of 97,000 lbs.’

    ‘Without my perceiving it?’

    ‘Yes; and if you are not crushed by such a pressure, it is because the air penetrates the interior of your body with equal pressure, and there is a perfect equilibrium between the interior and exterior pressure, which thus neutralise each other, and allow you to bear it without inconvenience. But it is another thing in water.’

    ‘Yes, I understand,’ answered Ned, becoming more attentive, ‘because I am in water, but it is not in me.’

    ‘Precisely, Ned; so that at 32 feet below the surface of the sea you would undergo a pressure of 97,500 lbs.; at 320 feet, 975,000 lbs.; and at 32,000 feet the pressure would be 97,500,000 lbs. – that is to say, you would be crushed as flat as a pancake.’

    ‘The devil!’ exclaimed Ned.

    ‘If vertebrata can maintain themselves in such depths, especially those whose surface is represented by millions of square inches, it is by hundreds of millions of pounds we must estimate the pressure they bear. Calculate, then, what must be the resistance of their bony structure and the strength of their organisation to withstand such a pressure.’

    ‘They must be made of iron plate eight inches thick, like the ironclads!’ said Ned.

    ‘Yes, and think what destruction such a mass could cause if hurled with the speed of an express against the hull of a ship.’

    Ned would not give in.

    ‘Have I not convinced you?’ I said.

    ‘You have convinced me of one thing, sir, which is, that if such animals do exist at the bottom of the sea, they must be as strong as you say.’

    ‘But if they do not exist, Mr Obstinate, how do you account for the Scotia’s accident?’

    ‘Because it is—’ began Ned hesitatingly.

    ‘Go on!’

    ‘Because – it is not true!’ answered the Canadian, repeating, without knowing it, a celebrated answer of Arago.

    But this answer proved the obstinacy of the harpooner and nothing else. That day I did not press him further. The accident to the Scotia was undeniable. The hole existed so really that they were obliged to stop it up, and I do not think that the existence of a hole can be more categorically demonstrated. Now the hole had not made itself, and since it had not been done by submarine rocks or submarine machines, it was certainly due to the perforating tool of an animal.

    Now, in my opinion, and for all the reasons previously deduced, this animal belonged to the embranchment of the vertebrata, to the class of mammals, to the group of pisciforma, and, finally, to the order of cetaceans. As to the family in which it took rank, whale, cachalot, or dolphin, as to the genus of which it formed a part, as to the species in which it would be convenient to put it, that was a question to be elucidated subsequently. In order to solve it the unknown monster must be dissected; to dissect it, it must be taken, to take it, it must be harpooned – which was Ned Land’s business – to harpoon it, it must be seen – which was the crew’s business – and to see it, it must be encountered – which was the business of hazard.

    CHAPTER 5

    At Random

    The voyage of the Abraham Lincoln for some time was marked by no incident. At last a circumstance happened which showed off the wonderful skill of Ned Land and the confidence that might be placed in him.

    On the 30th of June, the frigate, being then off the Falkland Islands, spoke some American whalers, who told us they had not met with the narwhal. But one of them, the captain of the Munroe, knowing that Ned Land was on board the Abraham Lincoln, asked for his help in capturing a whale they had in sight. Captain Farragut, desirous of seeing Ned Land at work, allowed him to go on board the Munroe, and fortune favoured our Canadian so well, that instead of one whale he harpooned two with a double blow, striking one right in the heart, and capturing the other after a pursuit of some minutes.

    Certainly if the monster ever had Ned Land to deal with I would not bet in its favour.

    On the 6th of July, about 3 p.m., we doubled, fifteen miles to the south, the solitary island to which some Dutch sailors gave the name of their native town, Cape Horn. The next day the frigate was in the Pacific.

    ‘Keep a sharp look-out!’ cried all the sailors.

    Both eyes and telescopes, a little dazzled certainly by the thought of 2000 dollars, never had a minute’s rest. Day and night they observed the surface of the ocean; and even nyctalops, whose faculty of seeing in the darkness increased their chances fifty per cent., would have had to keep a sharp look-out to win the prize.

    I, myself, who thought little about the money, was not, however, the least attentive on board. I was constantly on deck, giving but few minutes to my meals, and indifferent to either rain or sunshine. Now leaning over the sea on the forecastle, now on the taffrail, I devoured with greedy eyes the soft foam which whitened the sea as far as those eyes could reach! How many times have I shared the emotion of the officers and crew when some capricious whale raised its black back above the waves! The deck was crowded in a minute. The companion ladders poured forth a torrent of officers and sailors, each with heaving breast and troubled eye watching the cetacean. I looked and looked till I was nearly blind, whilst Conseil, always calm, kept saying to me, –

    ‘If monsieur did not keep his eyes open so much he would see more.’

    But vain excitement! The Abraham Lincoln would modify her speed, run down the animal signalled, which always turned out to be a simple whale or common cachalot, and disappeared amidst a storm of execration.

    Ned Land always showed the most tenacious incredulity; he even affected not to examine the seas except during his watch, unless a whale was in sight; and yet his marvellous power of vision might have been of great service. But eight hours out of the twelve the obstinate Canadian read or slept in his cabin.

    ‘Bah!’ he would answer; ‘there is nothing, M. Aronnax; and even if there is an animal, what chance have we of seeing it? Are we not going about at random? I will admit that the beast has been seen

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